As We Go Along
by WarningCrazyIsContagious
Summary: Iris King woke up on a beach in L.A. California with no memory of her life. She was found by Micky Dolenz, and he invited her to stay at the pad for one night, but she soon finds herself living with the Monkees, and falling for one of them. (There are a few dark scenes, but they are not morbid or morbidly descriptive.)


AN: Before we get this started this is not mine, it's a friends. They wanted me to post it on Fanfiction, so I did just that! Any reviews on here would be sent to them right away, so I hope you like the story!

I woke up to a pounding headache. I was not yet ready to open my eyes because the pain was excruciating. I used my other senses to figure out what had happened to me. I touched the ground, and I could feel it shifting in my hand. The air smelled salty as a swift breeze passed me, and I could hear the crashing of waves behind me. I deducted that I was on a beach, but I had no recollection of going to the beach. I slowly opened my eyes, and they were assaulted by the light of the sun. As they adjusted I confirmed that I was on a beach.

I slowly sat up, regretting it as pain pulsed through my body. I quickly curled up on the ground, putting my hands on my head, trying to rid of the awful sensation. After five minutes the pain subsided. I knew if I wanted to go anywhere I had to stand up. I sat up once again, and pushed myself off the ground until the only thing on the ground was my own two feet. I stood still until the world stopped spinning around me, I took a few shaky steps toward the houses along the beach, until I stumbled onto the ground. I probably looked like I had one too many drinks. I tried to stand again, but my body only went to the ground again. It seemed as though gravity was against me.

I decided since I couldn't move I should at least try to remember why I was passed out on the beach. I tried to think, but only fragments of thoughts floated around in my head. My name is Iris... Iris... Iris what. I live in... In ... In a house? I'm allergic to almonds, which is a useful thought, I guess. I'm 18 years old. The more I tried to think, the more my head seemed to hurt. I pounded my fist into the sand in frustration as it was the only thing I could do. I sat down, my hands once again resting on my head, while I wondered what I was going to do with myself.

After a few minutes of thinking I lifted my head to see that I was no longer sitting alone. Sitting next to me was a guy with extremely curly, brown hair. He had brown eyes and a warm smile. He looked toward me, noticing I was no longer curled up into my own world. He looked at me with concern evident in his eyes.

"Hello Miss. Are you ok," questioned the boy

"I'm fine, my head is just a little sore," I lied.

"That's swell. Maybe I can walk you home, just to make sure you get there ok."

I paused for a minute, unsure if I should tell him the truth or not. I knew he was only trying to be helpful, but it would probably be a drag to him if I tell him my problem. It would be for the best for both him and I if I lied. I realized that while I was pondering my options, I was staring at the boy with curly hair with the look of a lost puppy, while he awaited my response.

"I think it would be for the best if you didn't walk me home. I don't live that far from here," I finally answered.

"You sure," questioned the boy.

"I'm positive."

I watched as the boy with curly hair walked away, holding in all of my fears until he was out of sight. When I was certain that he was gone I broke down. I stood up in frustration and began to kick at the sand. I was to upset to notice my small victory. I began stomping around the beach until my legs could no longer support me. I fell into the sand, and tears began to spill from my eyes. I had no idea where I could go, and it's not like I had any money on me. I cried until tears could no longer fall, then I started rocking back and forth. I didn't care if anyone thought I was crazy. Maybe it would be for the best if some people from an institution came along and locked me up. At least then I wouldn't have to worry about being homeless.

"Why's a groovy girl like you crying," asked a familiar voice. I looked up to see the boy with the curly hair.

"I'd rather not tell you," I replied as another tear fell from my face.

"Please, I only want to help you."

"Why do you want to help me so much," I snapped, "I can take care of myself.

"Because it's the right thing to do," he answered with sympathy, "so please let me help you."

I looked at him, his face pleading with me to tell him what was wrong. I really didn't want to tell him because it would only be a drag, but he seemed like such a nice guy. I would feel guilty if I lied to him some more, but I'd also feel guilty if I told him the truth. Either way I would feel like the worst person in the world. I looked at his face again, and I knew I couldn't lie.

"I don't remember where I live," I nearly whispered.

"Do you at least remember something that can help us find your home?" he asked.

"I think that my name is Iris, and that I'm 18 years old, but that's all I can really give you."

The boy with curly hair stared out into the ocean, probably wondering what to do with me. He would look at me, then back at the ocean. I knew I should have just lied to the guy. I could feel guilt squeeze out of the pit of my stomach. The boy with curly hair probably felt obligated to help the poor lost girl. I could feel his eyes send pity in my direction.

"You could just leave if you want," I finally broke the silence.

"I don't think I could leave you here alone," he answered.

"I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself. I'll think of something, so you really don't have to worry."

"I know your old enough to take care of yourself," he paused for a moment. "I can take you to my pad tonight, and in the morning we can visit the police station."/span/p  
p style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" "That's dandy and all, except I don't even know your name. In my mind I've been referring to you as the guy with curly hair."

"Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Micky Dolenz Madame," he said with an exaggerated bow causing me to giggle, "and I live over there." Micky pointed to a house , with a sign that said 'No Walking On the Grass,' "although I must warn you that I live with three other guys, and we all can be quite... Unique."

"I'll go with you."

I know it was a bad idea to go with a stranger, let alone spend a night in a strange house with four boys, but I didn't have any other options. I knew a normal person would have the stranger danger vibe, but I lost my memory so I could be talking to my own mother and feel a stranger danger vibe. I followed Micky up the stairs of a dingy looking home. He open ended the door, and it was evident that teenage boys lived in that house. There were random taxidermy animals such as a money, movie posters littered the wall, there were funny signs, such as, in case of fire run, right next to a fire extinguisher, there was also a creepy dummy sitting in a chair. It had orange hair, and it really creeped me out. There was also a small stage set up with instruments, so I assumed that Micky was in a band.

"Micky, why'd ya bring a girl at this time. It's awfully late" said a man with a Texan accent.

"I found her at the beach, and she needed help Mike. What was I supposed to do, leave her," questioned Micky.

"I suppose not, but if she ends up being a problem, just remember you brought her here."

"I'm not some stray dog whose going to rip out your furniture," the words shot out of my mouth before I could think about them.

The guy known as Mike walked into my view. He was a fairly tall guy with black hair, brown eyes, and a green wool hat...in the middle of summer? He looked toward me with anger in his eyes, but it wasn't anger to intimidate me,it was just toward the dumb comment I said.

"I know you're not a dog. It's just that we don't know you, and I want to know that my friends will be fine. That you won't hurt em," stated Mike.

"I want you to know that I would never intentionally hurt anyone. Micky just helped me out because I was lost, and I'm just going to be here for the night."

Mike stormed out of room with a look of distrust, and I knew he had the right to feel it, after all, I was a stranger in his home. None of his friends knew anything about me, so he had a reason to want to watch out for them.

"Here, you can crash on the couch tonight, I'll grab some blankets," stated Micky with a smile.

"Thank you," I replied with a small smile.

Micky handed me the blankets and I instantly fell asleep as soon as my body landed on the couch, but it wasn't a peaceful night. I dreamed that I was a little girl playing at the beach. A woman in a purple sundress walked up to me, and said that she had to go. I asked her where she was going, but she only said that she was going someplace far away, and that she wasn't coming back. She turned to the ocean and began to walk in. I only realized what was happening when the water was up to her shoulders. She turned to me once again and said that she was sorry. She submerged into the water and she didn't come back up. I tried to help her, but little girl me had no idea how to swim.

I woke up and a small scream rose out of my throat. I hoped that no one heard me, however, I found that idea futile when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. As I waited for the inevitable, I curled up into a little ball, hoping if I closed myself into my own world, that no one would come near me. I found that to be a bad idea because when I entered my world I began to cry, which for me is embarrassing, because it makes me feel small and weak.

I felt pressure on the couch where someone sat beside me, but I was not ready to talk. My throat felt tight, and I knew that my cheeks would have been stained with tears. I made a few grumbling noises, trying to hint them to go away, but it didn't work. They just sat patiently next to me.

"I don't want to talk right now, so go to bed," I croaked out in between sobs, "I really didn't mean to wake you."

"You know, it always helps me to talk about nightmares," said an unfamilliar voice.

"I don't even know you, how would it be helpful?"

"I think it would make it easier talking to a stranger, besides I'm told I'm a very good listener."

With that I told the guy about my nightmare. However, I refused to unroll from my world, so I'm not sure how much he understood. After I finished my story I sneaked a glance at the boy. He had dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. He also had a kind smile with the cutest of dimples. He reminded me of an innocent child.

"There you are, and I thought I discovered blankets that could speak," said the boy, causing me to laugh.

"I'd rather you not look at me. I don't like when people see me cry," I said.

"Well, I think it's good to show your emotions and let them out. It shows you and others how human you are. I'm Peter tori by the way."

"Thanks for taking to me, it really did help, and my name is probably Iris. I suppose your friends told you about me, because you didn't seem that surprised to find me on the couch."

"Yeah, they did. Well, goodnight probably Iris."

"Goodnight Peter."

Peter walked back to his room, and I was once again left to my thoughts. I decided that it was best to hit the hay and not overthink anything about my nightmare. I laid down on the couch until all I could see was nothingness.

I woke up to the smell of bacon frying. I, however, remained on the couch because it was bad enough I crashed on their couch for the night, if I ate their food I would definitely be an intruder. I watched Peter and a shorter guy come down the stairs. When the short guy walked in my direction he halted. I assumed that the guys didn't tell him a stranger crashed on their couch. When I looked at his face I thought I had seen stars in his eyes. I figured it was some kind of reflection, because stars just don't appear in ones eyes.

" 'ello love, what are you doing 'ere," asked the guy.

"I was lost, so your friend Micky insisted I crash here for the night," I answered.

"So what's your name?"

"Her name is most likely Iris," Micky stated as he stepped off of the stairs. Micky turned to me, "are you ready to eat?"

"I couldn't. It's bad enough you let me stay the night," I said.

"Nonsense, there is plenty of food at the table, and you are our guest."

"Maybe just a little then."

"Great."

I sat at the table next to Micky. On the other side of me sat appeared to be watching me, making sure I wasn't some kind of psychopath. He made me feel extremely self conscious, like every move I made was a mistake, I took two pieces of bacon on my plate, not wanting to eat too much of their food, however, when the bacon was passed to Micky he put two more strips on my plate and an egg.

"You don't want to go to the police station hungry," said Micky.

"Yeah, but I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness," I answered.

"Don't, I promised I would help you, and part of that is making sure you eat."

"Like I told you before Mick, I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

The rest of the breakfast was silent, until the end when the shorter guy told me that his name was Davy Jones. When Micky and I got up to leave, I could still feel Mike's glare. It was so intense that I could feel it searing through my skin. I really did wonder why Mike had such a strong distrust toward me. I didn't believe that I did anything wrong.. I theorized that a situation like mine came up before, and it either hurt Mike or one of the boys. I pondered those thoughts until I could no longer hold it in.

"I know that this may seem rude, and I may be out of place, but did I do anything to anger Mike," I asked.

"No, it wasn't you, it's just that sometimes we get into situations that sometimes makes us weary on who to trust, and Mike is like the leader of the group. He just wants to make sure that all of us are safe, but I knew that you weren't lying about your situation, I could feel deep down that it was genuine," answered Micky.

I did not push the conversation any further. I could understand that Ii is hard to trust people if they gave you so many reasons not to. For me I had to trust Micky considering the state that I was in. I wondered how old me was at trusting. Did I find the good in people, as I believed Peter did, or was I more of a cynic who was weary with my trust, as I felt Mike was.

While I was lost in my thoughts we approached the police station. I realized I was shaking when I felt a firm grasp on my shoulder. In fact, I was more than a little shaky, I was nervous. I thought that there was a possibility that the police would not be able to figure out who I was. Where would I have gone from there? I certain couldn't go back with Micky, because that would be taking advantage of his kindness. When I snapped out of my thoughts I noticed that Micky and I were still stopped in front of the station.

"Well Mick, I guess now is as good a time as ever," I stated with a nervous laugh.

He guided me up the stairs, which was a good thing, otherwise my feet probably would have been anchored to the sidewalk. We entered the glass doors, and walked to the front desk.

"How may I help you," asked the officer.

"Hello, my name is Micky Dolenz, and my friend Iris here has forgotten who she was, is there any chance that anyone by the name of Iris was reported missing," said Micky.

"Let me check my files quick." He said as he stood off and walked into another room.

Minutes later the officer came back with a sad look in his eyes.

"There appears to be an Iris King that matches your description perfectly. The file says 'Iris King is 18 years old. She is five foot five and weighs 128 pounds. She has long, brown wavy hair and light blue eyes. She was last seen with her brother Max in there apartment. Iris went missing on October 26, 1966' which was two days ago."

I whispered the name Iris King a few times just to try it out, and the more I said it, the more I knew that the name Iris King was truly mine.

"So, I'm Iris King, which is good news, however, officer, I see a sad look in your eyes, so you better get the bad news out," I said.

"While, I'm afraid to tell you that you have no one to go home to. When you were eight years old your mother committed suicide, and the day you went missing the remains of your brother and father were found in the ashes where your house use to stand." Tears began to fall from my eyes, but I knew that I had to be strong. There was no way that I was going to break down in front of the police officer.

"Since you know who I am, are there any distant relatives that could take me in until I get back on my feet," tears threatened to fall.

"I'm afraid there's no one listed in your file, perhaps you can ask a friend."

"I have forgotten who I was, and you expect me to walk up to a phone and call a friend," I nearly shouted with anger, while Micky grabbed onto my shoulder, as if I was going to pounce on the officer.

"What about the guy who brought you here," he asked while gesturing toward Micky.

"I don't exactly..."

"Of course Iris can stay at my place until she can bounce back up," Micky interrupted.

Micky grabbed my arm and walked me out of the police station. I could not help but feel guilt squeeze at my stomach. Instead of walking back to Micky's pad he lead me to the park. We sat down on a bench and he offered me a hug that I gladly excepted. His kind gesture lead to me crying on his shoulder for a few minutes while he sat there patting my back trying to comfort me. After a few minutes I quit crying and I sat up.

"You really don't have to take me in. I feel as if I'm taking advantage of you and your friends, and admit it, having me around has been such a drag with all the crying, I mean it's starting to annoy me. I can find an alternative living arrangement," I started.

"Iris, just because you're crying, it doesn't make you a drag. You just had an over emotional day, so you are going to feel bad. And I want you to stay over. I want to know that nothing bad will happen to you. Besides, you need a job, and the Monkees need a manager," he replied.

"Do you mean Monkees like in a zoo?"

"No, I mean Monkees, as in the name of the band I'm in."

"I spent one night at your house, and so far, from what I have observed, it would definitely be like managing monkeys from the zoo."

"Was that a joke?"

"No, I was just stating a fact," I giggled, indicating that it was a joke, "but in all seriousness I think it would be groovy to manage the Monkees!"

When we entered the pad, the Monkees seemed surprised to see me beside Micky, which is understandable, because they were most likely hoping that I found my home. Micky excused himself and fis friends, with a promise of being back shortly. The boys ran upstairs, Mike carrying a giant gavel. I knew that Micky was telling them why I was still around, and that I wanted them all to decide whether I'm staying or not. Minutes later all the boys came down with sadden looks. Peter even offered me a hug, which I gladly took. I needed another hug, especially after losing everything I never knew I had.

"Congratulations Iris, you will be staying with us," cheered the boys. Micky, Peter, and Davy were all waving flags that said welcome home. I didn't even question why they had the flags, because strange things appear to happen with those guys.

"Thanks, and I'd like you to know that if you want me gone, I'll go," I responded.

Davy, Micky, and Peter made I face that said I could stay as long as I need, but Mike's face showed that he was considering the offer, which was fine by me. There was no reason for me to hang around if it made them uncomfortable, but for the time being, I was glad that I made such amazing friends that were willing to help me out. I truly felt like I had a home and a family. Sure Mike doesn't appear to like me, but I have a feeling that everything is going to work out.


End file.
